Chapter 490

Olivia

As the ultrasound technician slowly moved the cold, gel-covered probe across my belly, I didn’t let go of Nathan’s hand the entire time. The sound of a steady pulse filled the room, and soon, the faint image of a small figure inside my belly popped up on the screen.

“Hmm…” The technician thoughtfully hummed to herself as she worked. “Placental abruptions are usually difficult to see on ultrasound, but… oh. There it is.”

Nathan and I both seemed to swallow in unison as we leaned forward to see what the technician was pointing to on the screen. As soon as I saw it, I felt my heart sink further than it already had.

There it was; tiny, but there. A sliver of space between the placenta and the wall of my uterus. I guess part of me had somehow hoped that the doctor had been mistaken, but now that I had real, tangible, visual proof, it felt as if I had swallowed a leaden weight.

“You can go ahead and clean yourself up,” the technician said then, handing me a warm towel. “I’ll go get the doctor.”

As the technician walked out of the room and I wiped the cold gel off of my belly, Nathan sighed and ran a hand through his hair. I watched as he stood and began pacing the room; he was trying to act strong, but it wasn’t working. He looked as if he might pass out.

“What are we gonna do?” he asked, his voice quivering slightly. “Liv, what’s gonna happen to our baby?”

I could barely speak around the lump in my throat, but somehow I managed. “I don’t know, Nathan. I wish I had some sort of answer, but…”

Nathan suddenly stopped to look at me. His blue-green eyes were wide and full of a mixture of shock and hope. “You’ve got the Ancient Wolf in you,” he said. “Surely she can do something.”

Inside of me, my wolf let out a low, sad howl. “I’m trying my best,” she said softly. “But I can only offer you strength. I cannot repair damage like this.”

I took in a shuddering breath and met Nathan’s gaze. There was no need to speak; I simply shook my head, biting my quivering lower lip to stop myself from crying. Nathan cursed under his breath and returned to his pacing.

“I’ll take care of you, Liv,” he said softly. “I won’t let anything happen to our baby. I swear.”

For a moment, I opened my mouth to speak—but then I quickly closed it again. No, I couldn’t tell him. I couldn’t tell him that this was out of his hands.

It would hurt both of us too much.

…

“Remember, you must remain on strict bed rest for the next two weeks,” the doctor said as I finished buttoning up my shirt. “You may move around for fifteen minutes per day, but no more. And you shouldn’t move unattended.”

I nodded, feeling too numb to cry anymore. I had spent the past two nights and three days in the hospital, and there were no more tears left to cry.

Now, we just needed to wait and hope that, when they performed my c-section in two weeks, my baby—our little Alvin—would come out safely.

“I plan on staying with her as much as possible,” Nathan, who hadn’t left my side all this time, said with a firm nod. “And if I can’t be with her, rest assured that someone will.”

“Good.” The doctor finished jotting down some notes on his notepad, ripped the paper off, and handed it to Nathan. “There are plenty of instructions there, as well as my personal cell number. Don’t hesitate to call me, no matter the hour.”

“Thank you, doctor.”

“Stay safe.”

The nurse wheeled me out to the car in a wheelchair, and the whole time I clutched my jacket to myself as if that would somehow protect the baby in my belly. When we reached the car, Nathan had to help me in, as I was feeling incredibly weak from three days spent in a hospital bed.

I felt like a pity case as passersby looked at me, but I didn’t care at this point. I would have gladly put a big label that read ‘weak’ across my forehead if it meant keeping my baby safe.

The car ride back to the villa was mostly quiet aside from the sound of soft music playing over the radio. Nathan drove with one hand firmly wrapped around mine; he had hardly let go of me for even a moment the whole time I was in the hospital.

“You hungry?” he asked as we passed through town. “I’ll get you whatever you want. I could—”

“I think I just want to go home,” I said softly, giving his hand a squeeze. “But thank you.”

When we finally pulled into the driveway to the villa, I let out an audible sigh of relief. Finally, I was home. My twins waited for me inside; if only I could hold them. But the doctor had been firm on his stance about not lifting anything until well after the c-section.

In fact, when we parked in the driveway, I couldn’t even get out on my own. Nathan ordered me to stay seated while he jumped out and came around, and before I could even grasp what was happening, he was reaching into the car and picking me up.

“I-I can walk to the door, you know,” I said, laughing a bit.

“Nope.” Nathan gently cradled me as if I weighed nothing. “The doctor said bed rest, so bed rest it is.”

I felt my cheeks flush red. “Nathan—” I began, but it was no use. He was already carrying me up the porch and kicking the door open with his shoe, and I let myself sink into his arms. He felt warm and firm against me, and I buried my face in his fragrant, hot neck as he carried me up to the bedroom.

When we arrived in the bedroom, he gently laid me down on the bed and began to take my shoes off for me. I blushed again at his efforts, but said nothing this time.

As he worked, he looked up at me with those beautiful blue-green eyes of his and smiled ever so slightly.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he said gently as he slid off one shoe first and then the other. “I promise.”

Once again, I opened my mouth to speak—but this time, nothing would come out. Nothing more than a soft, strained, “Thank you.”

Before I knew it, I was dressed in my pajamas and laying back in bed. There was a flurry of activity as Nathan prepared the room, bringing me various books, drinks, and other things to keep myself busy.

It all felt like a blur to me as I just laid there, watching him move about frantically. And during those moments, there was no denying the way that my heart fluttered in my chest at the sight of my loving husband.

At some point, he slipped out of the room to make dinner. I laid there for a while, just staring up at the ceiling; my own bed was far more comfortable than the hospital bed, at least.

But two weeks of this awaited me; two weeks of being waited on hand and foot, two weeks of being infirmed, two weeks of agonizing worry. Two weeks should have felt like a blink of an eye, but in reality it felt like an eternity.

Could I—could my baby—really make it that long?